Good god, they're only at 23 and Lorne thinks he's going to die. He can tell from the stretching and shuffling of feet that McKay's legs are starting to go to sleep, so a position change is imminent. He doesn't know if he can stand whatever might come next. Really.

He catches Weir's eye. She has a high flush on her cheeks and her eyes are a little unfocused, but she eventually blinks and comes back to herself enough to pay attention to him.

He points at the door and mouths, "men's room," at her. She nods dumbly.

Lorne puts his hands in his pockets and hopes the whole control room can't see his hard on. They all look up curiously when he comes out - they've been in the conference room a loooong time. He tries to look casual as he makes his way to the nearest bathroom, trying not to run.

Thankfully, the bathroom is empty, and he hurries into the first stall and locks the door. He unzips and has his cock in his hand within two seconds. He's so fucking hard that it isn't going to take much. He tries to think of anything else - anything but his commanding officer curled around McKay, elbows on Rodney's shoulders, hands tangled in his hair. He tries not to think of McKay's hands - big, capable-looking hands - holding Sheppard's hips, his thumbs curled around to the front.

He gives up and thinks about kiss twenty-three, the one that made him have to leave the room. Sheppard and McKay had managed to turn their heads to the perfect angle to give Lorne a clear view of Sheppard's long fingers tracing the ridge of bone behind Rodney's ear with gentle fingers; a glimpse of their tongues sliding against one another. He was close enough to hear McKay laugh huskily into Sheppard's mouth; to hear the return dirty-old-man chuckle.

As soon as he said, "Twenty-three, sir," Lorne knew he had to get out of there or come in his pants. One hand on the wall, he shakes hard as he comes, trying to make sure his uniform remains stain-free. It's not like everyone in the room doesn't know why he left, but there's no need to make it obvious.

He zips up and steps out of the stall to wash his hands and splash cold water on his face. The walk back to the conference room is much easier. As he opens the door, he hears Ronon's voice, even lower than usual, say, "Twenty-five."